Part 6 (1/2)

It is well for the world's vampires that I am not the chief huntsman on their trail.

Actually there was no effective plan against me at the time; in making the hasty retreat from the cemetery that I did I was an overcautious general for once.

Meanwhile Van Helsing, on his part, was perhaps a little overconfident. He had been keeping a desultory eye on the cemetery, and had read the newspaper accounts of Lucy's activities, but that evening he did not approach her tomb until after dark. He brought with him a marveling and hesitant Dr. Seward, to whom he had begun to unfold the truth about Lucy's condition. The professor now intended to open Lucy's coffin and demonstrate to his younger colleague the incredible truth that he was trying to get across. Of course Van Helsing came well equipped with religious paraphernalia and garlic, expecting thus to be adequately protected, against Lucy at least; he had something of the mentality of his contemporaries, the American Indian Ghost Dancers, who earnestly believed that the signs and symbols of their faith would stop the bullets of the cavalry.

I was nowhere near Lucy's tomb that night, but only read of their expedition in Seward's journal later. Leading his skeptical friend along, parrying his whispered questions with mainly enigmatic and portentous words, Van Helsing entered the tomb-he had obtained the key at the funeral, under pretext of pa.s.sing it on to Arthur-and opened the coffin. He cut through the sealed inner, leaden box, which was once more empty. The absence of a corpse was certainly startling to Seward, but not enough to convince him that dear Lucy prowled on Hampstead Heath with b.l.o.o.d.y fangs. Nor was he totally convinced of such an outrageous fact, even by a white figure that later in the night gave the doctors the slip amongst the trees and tombs, and from the path of which they recovered a small child, abducted but still fortunately unharmed.

And, whilst the doctors prowled and argued, where was the evil count? On September twenty-seventh I was engaged in moving some of my furniture-by which I mean of course nine boxes, the size of large coffins, each half filled with weighty earth-from Carfax to a house I had just bought in Piccadilly. With the idea of making things more difficult for potential hunters who might attempt to trace my movements, I chose on this occasion not to deal with a regular firm of carters and instead struck out on my own to make the acquaintance of a suitable laborer.

After several interesting experiences in the pubs of the East End I hired one Sam Bloxam, who had a cart and single horse at his disposal. With this equipage two trips were needed between Carfax and the heart of the city, and the entire day was occupied. I might have speeded up matters somewhat by loading and unloading the boxes myself, but did not want to lift them unaided in sight of Mr. Bloxam, who understood in his bones just how heavy they were. So we hoisted them on and off the wagon between us, he puffing and blowing with the forty percent or so of weight that I allowed him to feel at his end.

At length I grew impatient, and in Piccadilly enlisted three itinerant laborers off the street to help Bloxam bring the boxes up the high steps of the house. This created a new difficulty, for when I inadvertently overpaid the men, with s.h.i.+llings instead of pence, they grew surly rather than grateful, and demanded even more. Perhaps some instinct informed them that the job for which they had been hired was one that their employer desired should be kept as confidential as possible. Their self-appointed leader, the largest of them, actually grew bl.u.s.tery with me. I took him by the shoulder and looked close into his eyes, and counseled moderation; and then I heard no more from them till they were several houses down the street, when they gave vent to oaths.

So I was still going peaceably about my own affairs, not seeking conflict with those who were determined to be my enemies. I felt very domestic in my Piccadilly house and considered rigging up a night-bell, or a day-bell rather, with a wire, and rejoiced that there were no manservants in my pantry to give concern for immorality. On that same day, unknown to me of course, Van Helsing and Seward were back in the boneyard, where the professor intended to make another demonstration for his doubtful student. They mingled with the mourners at some stranger's funeral, then slipped away to an unpeopled corner of the cemetery where they laid low until the s.e.xton had closed the gates. Then, using their key to enter the Westenra tomb for a second time, they naturally found Miss Westenra at home, though perhaps not in shape for receiving callers properly.

On this occasion Van Helsing had along his little black bag, with its cargo of hammer and stake and beheading knives, and he might have performed final surgery right then and there and discharged his patient. But once the doctors were in the tomb, and had opened the coffin to find the still-beautiful girl stretched out helpless and unconscious before them, it occurred to the professor, as he said to Seward: ”How can I expect Arthur to believe? He doubted me when I took from him her kiss when she was dying... he may think that in some mistaken idea this woman was buried alive... that we, mistaken ones, have killed her by our ideas and so he will be much unhappy always. Yet he never can be sure, and that is the worst of all... again, he will think that we may be right, and that his so-beloved was, after all, an Un-Dead...”

Van Helsing, of course had a prescription to save Arthur from this dilemma. ”He must pa.s.s through the bitter waters to reach the sweet. He, poor fellow, must have one hour that will make the very face of heaven grow black to him...”

In short, the old s.a.d.i.s.t wanted to get Arthur himself to do the killing, or be a witness at the very least.

After sending Seward home to his madhouse, and dining alone in Piccadilly- perhaps not far from where I was at my domestic tasks-Van Helsing returned to the Berkeley Hotel, where he was staying. He girded himself for a night-long vigil, and wrote out an impressive farewell note to Dr. John Seward, just in case. He left it in his portmanteau, and it was never delivered.

September Friend John- I write this in case anything should happen. I go alone to watch in that churchyard. It pleases me that the Un-Dead, Miss Lucy, shall not leave tonight, so that on the morrow night she may be more eager. Therefore I shall fix up some things she likes not-garlic and a crucifix-and so seal up the door of the tomb. She is young as Un-Dead, and will heed. Moreover, these are only to prevent her coming out; they may not prevail on her wanting to get in; for then the Un-Dead is desperate, and must find the line of least resistance, whatsoever it may be. I shall be at hand all the night from sunset till after the sunrise, and if there is aught that may be learned I shall learn it.

For Miss Lucy or from her, I have no fear; but that other to whom is there that she is Un-Dead, he now have the power to seek her tomb and find shelter. He is cunning, as I know from Mr. Jonathan and from the way that all along he have fooled us when he played with us for Miss Lucy's life, and we lost; and in many ways the Un-Dead are strong. He have always the strength in his hand of twenty men; even we four who gave our strength to Miss Lucy it is all to him. Besides, he can summon his wolf and I know not what. So if it be that he come hither on this night he shall find me; but none other shall-until it be too late. But it may be that he will not attempt the place. There is no reason why he should; his hunting ground is more full of game than the churchyard where the Un-Dead woman sleep and the one old man watch.

Therefore I write this in case... Take the papers that are with this, the diaries of Harker and the rest, and read them, and then find this great Un-Dead, and cut off his head and burn his heart or drive a stake through it, so that the world may rest from him.

If it be so, farewell.

Van HelsingAnd neither, perhaps, will I be greatly saddened when the time comes that I rest from the world, forever. But Count Dracula is not yet ready to be killed, nor was I then.

Though I wished nothing more than to be let alone, yet I could not forget that Van Helsing must know of me and that he was a killer. I avoided Carfax during the day, and at night, like my enemy, I took my way once more to the cemetery, to find out what I could.

The night of the twenty-seventh was warm and fair, and would have disappointed those cinematographers who deal much with vampires and such other improbable creatures as are thought to frequent graveyards. And this time I was in luck. Even from a considerable distance I could see that something new had been added to the Westenra mausoleum: from a chain looped over a roof ornament there dangled a small crucifix of wood, just opposite the middle of the doors.

Resuming the mist-form in which I had crossed the cemetery wall, I drifted closer.

But progress in that mode is very slow and it is hard to see or hear very much en route. In the deep shadow of some trees I resumed the form of man and was at once rewarded with the soft sounds of a single human heart and pair of lungs at work not far away. With his broad back set against a cross that served as headstone on a neighboring grave, a man who could be none other than Van Helsing watched with sleepless eyes the quiet exterior of Lucy's tomb. Inside, I felt her mind, not quite awake, but fretful.

Wis.h.i.+ng to achieve some rational discourse with Van Helsing rather than put him to flight or come to grips with him, I circled to approach him from his front. In a few moments he looked up with a start at the sight of my figure walking toward him through the night along the gra.s.sy, seldom-used road.

”In nomine Dei, retro, Satana!” His hands were clenched, and he got his feet beneath him, ready to spring up.

”Pax vobisc.u.m,” I replied, but in such low voice that he may not have heard. ”Dr.

Van Helsing, I presume,” I added, louder, as I drew near, in unconscious parody of Stanley's Ujiji words of twenty years before.

As I approached Van Helsing got to his feet, an obstinate bull digging in his heels to launch a charge at a locomotive. Despite his gloomy note left for Seward, he really thought himself protected. The great stone cross was still at his back; in his left hand I saw a small golden crucifix, and in his right, only partially visible, the whiteness of some folded paper.

He raised both hands and held them forward as I drew near. Let him think his toys would stop me, if he really believed such rot. I wanted the chance to talk. We eyed each other for some moments above the little crucifix.

”Count Dracula.” He made a tiny bow. His nerve was high, his mouth smiling a little now.

”At your service,” I replied, and gave him back his bow.He tipped his head in the briefest nod toward the silent tomb. ”You may not have her longer,” he said, continuing to smile. ”She is no longer yours.”

”My dear young sir, she never was.” Van Helsing's face at that time bore more agelines than my own, but he understood. ”Not in the way you seem to think.”

”You lie, king-devil Dracula. Ve know you, better than you realize.”

”Very well, Van Helsing, we will have bluntness. I know your name, but nothing good of it. What are your intentions now?”

”That the so-young Miss Lucy shall have rest, and peace.”

”And as regards me?”

”If it so may be,” he said with a grim, measured determination, ”that you shall trouble none other as you have troubled her.”

I turned away and strolled about a little among the tombs, my hands behind my back and beneath my cloak, somewhat in the way that I have seen Napoleon walk when deep in thought. ”Why?” I asked, stopping to face my antagonist once more.

And then I saw in his face, in his eyes, that he probably really did not understand my question.

”I mean why, Professor, do you persecute and torment us? I know of one vampire that you have slain near Brussels, and two more, a man and wife, near Paris...”

”Man and wife!” He was outraged. ”If there are marriages not in heaven, as the Scripture say, then surely not in h.e.l.l either!”

”And we are h.e.l.lish, of course; more so than other folk, I mean. Tell me, Van Helsing, if I took that cross from out of your grasp and hung it 'round my own neck, would you still be so certain that I came from h.e.l.l?”

His pudgy fingers tightened on the gold. ”By your works I know you, Dracula. I fear there is much power to you, and that you may play tricks with crosses, and the other things of holiness. In Brussels where I did my work of mercy I heard your name, and in Paris too; and I have read the journal of young Harker, from his stay at your d.a.m.ned castle, from which the powers of heaven so blessedly delivered him.”

”Ah! And is Jonathan well, and back in London now?” As I spoke I recalled the notebook with Harker's ciphers in it. ”I would be pleased to know that he is well, but saddened if he found my hospitality so hard to bear as your grim tones and looks imply.”

Van Helsing now held silent, regretting perhaps that he might have given something away by mentioning Harker at all. Utter loathing was in his eyes, which remained fixed on me, but also the beginning of something like triumph as he saw that my renewed pacing brought me never any nearer to his crosses, nor to the white envelope in his right hand, whose contents I thought I had already guessed. He put this hand back into his pocket now whilst he swiveled the little gold crucifix to keep it facing squarely toward me as if it were a loaded gun.

Three quick strides, a twisting of my arms, and he would have been a vastly surprised corpse. But others-Harker, Dr. Seward, I could not guess who else-were certain to know of Van Helsing's vigil here tonight. They might even be watching us at the moment from somewhere nearby. Was I then to kill them too? The more I killed, the more the ranks of my enemies must grow, fed from the ocean of unbelievers in which both hunters and vampires were now no more than vastly scattered drops.

What should I do, then? Kneel down and pray a rosary? I might have done so, but never to placate a foe, and least of all a smirking, self-righteous enemy like this one.

I tried fair, honest words again. ”I have not come to London to make war, Van Helsing, but to make peace with all mankind-”

”Then, monster, what of the girl? This so sweet young miss who was put in those walls of cold stone; and, worse, who do not stay-”

”Van Helsing, you may believe if you wish that being a vampire is worse than being dead; I see I am not likely to sway you by any argument. But forcing the consequences of misbelief upon others is something else again.”

”You dare to speak of forcings, monster!” His courage continued to grow as he saw that I continued to keep my distance. ”You who forced that girl to yield to you her very blood and life-”

”Not so, murderer!” Now I did move closer to him by a step. ”You who drove those splintered stakes into the living b.r.e.a.s.t.s of my three friends in Brussels and in Paris!

And as for Lucy, it was to save her life that I drank deep enough of her sweet blood to make her what she is-it was really you who sent her to the tomb!”